


Want to Feel That, Too

by Gorned



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blow Jobs, Eggsy Unwin is a Little Shit, M/M, Slight Asphyxiation, but nobody is actually whipped, playing with The Whip, the fandom needs more whiskey love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 12:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gorned/pseuds/Gorned
Summary: Jack gets a little existential sometimes and wishes he wasn't so jaded. Eggsy has a fascination with The Whip. Somewhere there's a blowjob.





	Want to Feel That, Too

“Eggsy’s a stupid name.”  
  
It’s pitch black in Jack’s high-rise apartment save for the lights of New York that illuminate their sprawled out bodies. Jack lost his boots somewhere, Eggsy’s wearing his Stetson. They’re both balancing cold beers on their bellies. Jack can feel the sweat trickling down the bottle and soaking into his shirt. He doesn’t look over as Eggsy snorts and takes a long swig.

“The most brilliant part of it is I fucking hate eggs,” Eggsy says, “I hated eggs as a child when me da gave me the nickname and I hate eggs now. Could go by my given name and be Gary, but I don’t know how to be anythin’ other than Eggsy, really.”

Jack turns his head to look at him. Eggsy’s eyes are half-lidded as he stares out at the skyline. He’s using his thumb to pick at the edge of the beer label. He’s a beautiful kid with a jawline that Jack wants to break his teeth on, cut his mouth with. There’s always a hopefulness in Eggsy’s face no matter the situation and Jack’s drunken lizard brain thinks that if he just got close enough to Eggsy, got to kiss him and steal his breath and pleasure and drink him in until there was nothing left, he could have some of that hopefulness. That naiveté.  
   
“You’re a spy,” Jack says. He sits up and drains the rest of his beer and very, very carefully sets the bottle on the glass coffee table because his limbs are heavy and sore. Some giant of a man had thrown him into a wall a few days ago and he was still feeling it every time he moved. The alcohol was like extra weight in his blood. “A spy can be anything they want, sweetheart. You could be anybody. Th’ best thing about our job is that we ain’t gotta be who society tells us because to society, we don’t fuckin’ exist. We're like fuckin'... Fuckin' spirits. Ideas. Shifters.”  
  
“I didn't mean for this conversation to get so deep. Was just sayin' about me name,” Eggsy turns to lay on his side, knees tucked up and arm curled under his head to somewhat support it. The Stetson’s brim is being crushed and Jack doesn’t have it in him to be mad about it. He had a thousand hats. Eggsy could smush every single one. “Do you often have existential crises when you’re drunk?” His tongue darts out to taste the bottle opening before he takes a drink. Jack stares at Eggsy’s mouth as he thinks of an answer, brain sluggish and wanting to think things about Eggsy’s lips instead.

Does he? Yes. He does. Why the fuck is he here? Why is anyone? When will they be swallowed by the stars and every single one of their past pains and aches finally, finally disappear? Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, wipes his hand down his face and over his mouth. He huffs out a breath and gives a wry grin.

“Don’t get me started,” is his final answer, to which Eggsy shrugs. His eyes look unreal in the dark. Shiny, pretty. Jack wonders if his just look like yawning, endless, hopeless pits. He closes them. He doesn’t know how long he lays there, brain quietly spinning on its axis in a pleasant sort of way, before he feels some sneaky fingers at his belt. His eyes snap open and hand darts out to close around Eggsy’s wrist, tighten when he sees the handle of his whip in Eggsy’s grasp.

“Th’ fuck’re you doin’?” Whiskey narrows his eyes and doesn’t let go, even when Eggsy tries to tug his hand back.

“I just wanted to look at it,” Eggsy smirks.

Jack looks down and can’t remember what it’s like to have saliva in his mouth as he tracks the circling movement of Eggsy’s thumb over the pommel. He rubs over the ridge of it a slow up and down, back and forth over the smooth, worn leather. Eggsy drops his head to put his face into Jack’s line of vision and that beautiful tongue sneaks past plush lips to trace the curve of the embossed Statesmen logo at the tip. Fuck.

“Boy, I don’t take kindly to teasin’,” Jack growls, low and dripping with the thickness of his accent. He wishes Eggsy’s hair was long enough to grip. He wants to pull his head back and expose the long line of his throat and bite over that stupid, identifying freckle. He reaches out to knock the Stetson off and rake his fingers through his hair anyway.

“Pity,” Eggsy demurs, kissing the pommel and sighing through his nose at the fingers dragging over his scalp, “Because I love it. Well, t’be on the giving end. Of the teasing. You catch my drift, bruv.” He winks.

Jack presses the button to release the length of leather and before Eggsy can even move, Jack has it wrapped twice around his neck. He pulls the handle back to put some tension in it and Eggsy gasps sharply, eyelids shuttering. His breath becomes ragged with the pressure on his throat. He wets his lips. Jack pulls to guide Eggsy’s head down, pointedly arching his hips up to rub the kid’s face in his crotch.  
  
Eggsy laughs, husky and rasped, with the little breath he can take. Jack wants to distill the sound and take shots of it, drown in it. Eggsy’s nimble fingers undo his belt buckle, his pants. Jack gives some slack on the whip for the good behavior.  
  
“Figures you’d be the type to free ball, mate.”  
  
“You complainin’?”

“Oh no. Not at all.”  
  
That tongue flickers out to taste and Jack groans in frustration. He pulls the whip to drag Eggsy’s face against his crotch again and only gets kisses to his length for the trouble. Fucking shit.

“C’mon,” he hisses, hand on the back of Eggsy’s head to keep him down.  
  
Eggsy just laughs at him again and finally, blessedly, takes his cock into his mouth. Jack is very, very thankful that Eggsy isn’t toying with him anymore. It's been too long since he's had anything like this and he wants it now, wants it bad. Maybe there'd be another time when he maybe wouldn't mind a bit more foreplay but for now, he wants it to be quick and sloppy. Eggsy's mouth is hot, wet, and making obscene sounds. He drags those lips up and down, tongues at the head and over his balls, and Jack thinks he could die happy like this. He can feel the gentle scrape of teeth over his skin and it makes him buck up with a curse, his cock bumping at the back of Eggsy’s throat. Eggsy’s nails bite into Jack’s hips but he doesn’t pull off. Good boy.  
   
He’s close and letting Eggsy know it with a squeeze to the base of his head. With no further sign of teasing in sight, Jack unwinds the whip from around Eggsy’s throat, letting the leather slither over his pinkened skin with a quiet whisper. Eggsy shudders and sucks hard. Jack moans and tips his head back. He feels heavy and hot, feels fire running through his core. He angles his arm out and cracks the whip on air, making Eggsy jump and drop his cock out of his mouth, looking startled and ready to fight.  
   
Jack gives himself two firms strokes and he’s coming, striping Eggsy’s mouth and chin and very much enjoying the surprised look on his face. He hisses as Eggsy’s tongue darts out to swipe heavy over the sensitive head of his cock, licking up some of him and making a noise like he’s savoring it. This kid is going to kill him.  
  
Eggsy pulls back and pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, a God’s honest monogrammed, silk handkerchief, and wipes at his face. He nods at the whip and winks.  
   
“I quite like that. I’m startin’ to see the appeal of your carrying it around all the time,” he says, voice a bit raspy.  
  
“It has its uses. I’ll admit that I feel like I’m missin’ a limb when I ain’t got it,” Jack agrees lazily. He presses the button to have the rope coil itself. He reaches out to palm Eggsy’s erection through his trousers, very much meaning to return this favor, but their attentions turn quickly to Eggsy’s beeping glasses on the coffee table. Eggsy sighs and slides them onto his face.  
   
“Please tell me this isn’t urgent,” he says, looking away from Jack and out at the skyline. Jack takes the moment to tuck himself away and do up his pants. “…Yes, Merlin. Alright, alright. … _Yes_. Alright, fine! I’m on my way.” He taps the side of his specs and grins at Jack. He picks up the fallen hat and offers it back.

“Care for a jaunt to South Africa? There’s a mad scientist. It’ll be fun, swear down.”

Jack tips his head to the side and looks at Eggsy. He’s tired, still a little drunk, and his bones feel like liquid. He wants to lay on his couch and never get up again, maybe morph into a new type of species. Eggsy’s face, though, is the sun and Jack wants to stare into it into he goes blind. Eggsy’s lips are swollen and he’s got a faint impression from the whip around his pale neck. His hair, once gelled and perfect, is mussed from Jack’s fingers. His eyes, those fucking eyes, are bright with sense of duty and adventure. He’s not jaded like Jack. He’s still fresh and young and so ready for anything that might come at him. Jack wants that feeling back. He wants Eggsy, wants to keep him near for as long as possible.  
  
“Yeah, sure. Why the fuck not,” He takes his hat back and sets it carefully on his head.  
  
“Let’s giddy up, sweet thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a dear friend who shares my love of Whisked Eggs. Need more Whiskey in the fandom, imo.


End file.
